Chapter 23 - Arthur and Clara
Arthur and I did not speak for nearly two years.
Then Susan Bell died? No, no need. Maybe company annual shareholder meeting forced contact.
We saw each other at annual shareholder meetings.
Lawyers.
Documents.
Neutral.
No personal conversation.
Then Charles had minor heart surgery.
Not life-threatening.
We both went to the hospital.
Waiting room.
Arthur sat twelve feet away.
Eventually:
“How’s Gigi?”
I looked at him.
“Healthy.”
“How old?”
“Almost four.”
He knew that.
Maybe he wanted permission to say it.
He nodded.
“I’m not asking to see her.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then:
“I hate that the only thing people know about me now is what I did.”
I thought carefully.
“Is that true?”
“My new coworkers know.”
“That isn’t the only thing they know.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
I did.
“You were more than that before.”
He looked up.
“And?”
“You’re more than that after.”
His face changed.
That was not forgiveness.
Humanity.
Then:
“But I will never tell Gigi the slap was a small part of you so she should ignore it.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
Good.
We sat until Dad came out of recovery.
No hug.
No childhood montage.
May you like
Two siblings capable of occupying one room without reenacting rank.
That was enough.
